


Best For You

by kaianieves



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Gen, Homophobia, WLW!reader, lesbian!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-09-07 13:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16854919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaianieves/pseuds/kaianieves
Summary: Imported from my Tumblr blog. I didn't edit this, spare a few typos, so it's just as it is posted on there.





	Best For You

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from my Tumblr blog. I didn't edit this, spare a few typos, so it's just as it is posted on there.

A/N: Not my first fic ever written, but my first fic on here! Just wanted to start with a mildly stereotypical coming out fic. I *did* use a quote from Dean in season 9, though, which is the actual inspiration for this. I hope you enjoy! 

My family had been hunters for long before I was born, going back to my great grandparents. I loved my family, I loved hunting, knowing I was saving someone.

What I didn’t love was the secrecy. I hated keeping secrets. Monsters and hunting, I could deal with keeping that a secret. Things like that alter someone’s life forever, and it’s better if civilians didn’t know about them. Being a lesbian on the other hand, was not a secret I liked keeping. But my family wasn’t exactly the most accepting. I loved them, but I knew I could never truly be myself. Because if I was, they wouldn’t love me.  
It was a simple shapeshifter hunt down in Hawkinsville, Georgia. Two people had gone missing before appearing for brief periods of time, then disappearing again. My mother had sent me to deal with it on my own, while her and my little brother dealt with a werewolf pack in Indiana.

I got to victim number two’s house early in the morning after flooring it to the small town. My family had become more and more suffocating in recent days, and getting away from them was relieving, to say the least. The house was seemingly abandoned, considering the number of newspapers left on the porch.  
I pried open the door with a crowbar, pushing it warily. It was as dark inside as it was out. Stepping inside, the floors creaked. I looked up at the staircase, seeing a shadow move out of sight. I walked further into the house, silver dagger ready in hand. Moving slowly up the stairs, I thought I heard a creak of the floorboards upstairs. I smirked, climbing up the stairs with more confidence.

When I got to the top, there were three doors in the hallway, all closed. I approached the first one on the left. “Let’s see what’s behind door number one,” I mumbled. I reached for the doorknob, flinging it open. The room was empty. I huffed. “Anticlimactic much?”

I approached the second door, flinging it open as I did the first. Again, nothing. I stalked towards the third door at the end of the hall. Opening it, there stood a man– well, shapeshifter, tall and intimidating. He didn’t look like either of the vics from their photos in the town’s newspaper, meaning that he killed another person. “Well, third times the charm,” I said. The man charged me like an angry bull, but I skid out of the way. I kicked him in the stomach, catching him off guard. He swung a fist at me, hitting me in the arm. I aimed for the jaw, landing the blow. I pushed him into the upstairs railing. I was about to stab him in the heart when he kicked me in the shin.

“Shit!” I yelled. The shapeshifter tried to jump over the railing, me holding onto him by his arm. I ripped off the skin, and he tumbled over the railing and onto the stairs. He got up, running out the front door.  
I raced down the stairs, flesh still in hand. I made it to the door, to see him taking off in my truck. I sighed, dropping the skin and punching the wooden door frame.

I spent a half an hour walking from the house to the dingy motel, checking in and lying on the bed. The monster had gotten away, but more importantly, he got away with my truck full of everything I owned. That truck was my emergency home. I had been thinking about it, telling my family. But I knew they wouldn’t accept me, which was something I’d have to deal with. But when they inevitably kicked me out, that truck was my backup; it was my safe house. I didn’t know what I’d do without it.  
But of course I left the keys in the ignition, because this was supposed to be a one and done. Not some drawn out story. I was just thankful I didn’t leave my wallet, too.

I fell asleep in my clothes, waking up when the sun peeked through the motel window. It was seven A.M.. I groaned, rubbing the purple bruise on my shin from that kick the night before.  
I left the room, crossing the road to the diner across the street from the motel, The Greasy Spoon. I didn’t doubt that.  
I noted the classic car in the diner’s gravel parking lot, the bell above the door jingling when I opened it. I made my way to the vinyl counter, sitting on a stool.

“Hello, darlin’. What can I get for you?” a waitress asked, approaching me. Her name tag read Cindy. She was pretty cute.  
“Um, just some eggs and bacon. Oh, and coffee, black,” I said. Cindy smiled.

“Sure thing.” With that, she approached the kitchen line again. I looked around the diner, observing the other patrons: an old man drinking orange juice, filling in what looked to be a crossword puzzle. A tired looking woman in nurses’ scrubs, sipping a cup of coffee. And two men sitting in a booth, talking. Well, the taller one with long hair was talking, seemingly annoyed with the guy in front of him, who was smiling with a mouth full of jelly-filled donut. I rolled my eyes, focusing back on what was ahead of me. Cindy came back around, a tray of coffees in her hand. She set mine down in front of me. “Coffee, black,” she said, then made her way around the staff entrance to behind the counter, heading towards the guys from earlier. The donut guy started chewing again properly, and the long haired guy shook his head. Cindy smiled at them, placing a coffee in front of him. Before she could give Donut Guy his, it splashed onto her waitress uniform.

“Oh, gosh!” she yelled. I stood up, grabbing napkins from the dispenser on the counter. I walked over, handing them to her.  
“Here you go,” I said. She looked up at me, smiling thankfully. She had really pretty eyes. “Um, yeah,” I continued awkwardly, walking back to my seat. I sipped my coffee, watching as Cindy went to the back to clean up the stain.  
When she came out next, there wasn’t much but a faint brown splotch on her shirt. She leaned over the counter, looking at me. “Thanks, for the napkins,” she said.

“Not a problem,” I said, swallowing a piece of bacon. Another waitress had delivered my food while Cindy was removing the stain. “Hey, this may be odd, but have you seen a truck lately?” I asked.

She stared at me for a moment before laughing lightly. “It’s Georgia, honey. You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Um, well it’s a 1980 Chevy. Pretty noticeable, it’s blue and silver,” I explained.

“Well, no, I haven’t seen it,” she said, and my face dropped. It was to be expected, but I was still hopeful. “But,” Cindy continued, “If I do see it, how about I give you a call?” she asked, handing me her notepad and a pen. I looked at her, and she quirked an eyebrow.

“Uh, y-yeah, sure,” I stumbled, writing down my name and number. When I was done, she looked at it.

“Y/N. That’s a pretty name,” Cindy commented, winking. I could feel myself blushing. “Well, enjoy your breakfast, Y/N.” She walked away. I finished my breakfast, leaving the money due and a tip for Cindy. I looked out on the horizon in front of the diner, wondering what to do next. Just as I set down the dirt sidewalk, I heard someone call something from behind me.  
“Hey! Hey, wait!” I turned around to see Tall Guy and Donut Guy waiving at me. They approached, and I was confused. “Um, hey. We couldn’t help but hear that someone had taken your car?” Tall Guy asked.

“Um, yeah. Why?” I asked.

“1980 Chevy, blue and silver, right?” I nodded. “We saw a car like that across town,” Donut Guy said. Relief flooded through me. Now I knew where the shifter and my truck were. Until I remembered, I needed a way to get there.

“Well, thanks, um…”

“I’m Dean, this is my brother, Sam,” Donut Guy said.

“Well, yeah. Thanks again,” I said, walking back towards the motel to figure out a game plan.

“We could drive you?!” Sam called. I turned around just in time to seen Dean elbow his brother in the side. “Ow. What?” Sam mumbled. Him and Dean turned, and their conversation was garbled by the passing wind. I approached them again.

“If you could drive me, that’d actually be awesome,” I interjected. Dean looked away, but I could tell he was rolling his eyes. Whatever. I just needed to get from point A to point B with these two. Not like I was selling my soul to them.

Sam looked to Dean for seeming approval. Dean sighed, giving up. “Fine, yeah, c’mon…”

“Y/N,” I answered.

We were in the car, driving. Old rock music was playing softly from the car speakers. Sam broke the silence. “So, how’d you lose your car, Y/N? Go on a pub crawl and forget where you left it?” he asked, chuckling.

“Uh, no. Someone stole it last night while I was… Visiting a friend,” I said.

“So you live here?” Dean piped up.

“No, no. Just passing through to visit my friend. You?” I asked.

“Passing through on some business,” Sam said smoothly.

I laughed. “What business would someone have in a small town like this?” I asked. They were quiet. I eyed them suspiciously. The car hit a major pothole, and the car’s trunk popped open. Dean swerved slightly, slamming the breaks.

“Holy shit!” I yelled. Then I got out of the car.

“No, no, wait, Y/N!” Sam called, opening the door as I ‘rounded the car to the trunk. On the underside of the trunk’s hood was a pentagram.

Dean and Sam had at this point made it to where I was. “Is that a Devil’s Trap?” I asked. I looked closer at the trunk, figuring out it was a fake bottom. I pulled it up.

“Don’t– do that…” Sam mumbled. There were shotguns, hand guns, ammunition, axes, stakes… Was that a grenade launcher?

“Are you two hunters?” I asked, turning around and facing them. Sam blinked, a little shocked. Dean just chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m not here visiting a friend, and you two aren’t passing through on business, unless you’re biblical assassins sent to kill some poor Georgian,” I said.

“Clearly. So, are you on the same shifter hunt we are?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. Asshole stole my truck last night. I almost had him, though. You can just drop me off where the truck is, and I’ll take care of him,” I said, slamming shut the trunk. Dean winced at the sound, and I gave him a questioning look.

“Look, I think we should work together on this one,” Sam said. Wait, Sam and Dean…

“Are you the Winchesters?” I asked.

“Unfortunately, yeah,” Dean grumbled, getting into the driver’s seat again. Sam pulled his door closed as I settled in the back seat again.

“Oh, well… Thank you? But also, fuck you,” I said. Dean glared at me from the rear view mirror. “What?” I questioned. “You two opened a Devil’s Gate, let Lucifer out of the cage, twice, released some plague causing entity that we still don’t know what it is–”

“We get it, our filmography isn’t… the cheeriest,” Sam sighed.

“Sorry. My family just aren’t your biggest fans. I can understand, though. Just surviving with the cards you’re being dealt,” I said, a little too sentimentally. Dean eyed me from the mirror again, this time a little more sympathetic.

“So you’ve got a hunting family, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah, goes way back,” I said.

“Same here,” he said. “So what’re they like?” he asked.

“Well, you know, the standard. My mom, Ellie, she’s really kind, but also badass. She was a little hard on my brother and I when we were little, but understandably.”

“Older or younger brother?” Sam asked.  
“  
Younger. His name is Brandon, and he’s basically my world. Would do and have done basically anything to keep that kid safe. He’s made a few dumb kid mistakes, but I love him unconditionally, so…” There were a few moments of silence. “I don’t think that goes both ways, though,” I said a little quieter. I was staring out the window, when I noticed my truck pass by. It was in the parking lot of an abandoned brewery. “There it is,” I said, opening the car door.

I didn’t even wait for the car to stop. I tucked and rolled onto the gravel, cradling my head. Their car stopped a few feet away from me. I got up, running towards my truck. The windows were down, just as I left them. I opened the car from the inside, grabbing the keys from the passenger seat. I kneeled on the seat, checking the backseat, making sure my backpack and other things were still there. They were, which was a relief. I slammed the door shut, heading towards the trunk when I spotted Sam and Dean.

“Finally. You’d think with the extra height you two’d be faster,” I snarked.

“What the hell was that?” Dean asked.

“What?” I asked, opening up my trunk, rummaging through its contents.

“You “Mission: Impossible”-ing out of my car!”

“Well you weren’t paying attention, and we might’ve missed my truck. So I got your attention,” I explained, head still in the trunk. 

“Ah! There it is.”

“Is that an axe?” Sam questioned.

“Why yes, Sam Winchester, it is,” I replied, holding it up to the sun and admiring the black goo splattered blade. “I haven’t used this since those Leviathan freaks came about, actually,” I recalled.

“Why do you need it now?” Dean asked.

I practised my swing at nothing, but Sam still jumped a little away. “Silver axe blade. I’m a petty human being, and that shifter stole my truck,” I explained. Dean nodded along to my explanation, while Sam gave an exasperated look.

“Ready?” I asked, dropping the axe to my side.

“Yeah. Sam, you take the back. Y/N and I’ll take the side,” Dean directed. Sam nodded, taking out his gun and walking around to the back of the building. Dean and I made our way to the side, where there was a pair of metal double doors. Dean opened them quietly, clearing the inside before I followed him in.

“Why would a shifter choose this building as a hideout?” I thought aloud, staring at the large vessels and tanks.

“These aren’t made of silver, it’s all stainless steel,” Dean said.

“Hm. And how do you know that?” I asked.

“Sammy says it’s a side effect of my functioning alcoholism.” I laughed quietly at that. We walked into another aisle of giant metal tanks.

“It sounds like you have a good relationship with him, even through everything,” I said.

“Yeah, we do. It gets difficult, and there are some things we don’t see eye to eye on, but… At the end of the day, it’s family that matters. Family’s all ya got, y’know?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said. It was true. But soon enough, my family wouldn’t consider me family. And what was I supposed to do then? I wouldn’t have a family. I wouldn’t have anyone.

“You don’t seem too happy with your family situation, though,” Dean commented. He looked at me for a moment, and it felt like he was staring at my soul. “You were flirting with that waitress earlier. Does that have anythin–”

“Did you hear that?” I asked, ignoring his question. I had heard a light clanging nearby. It happened again, which caught Dean’s attention. We made it to the end of the tanks, and split up. He went left, and I went straight ahead into another aisle of tanks. I didn’t bother looking up, which would end up being a mistake. The shapeshifter jumped down from one of the tanks, pinning me to it.

“You should’ve taken the truck and left, stupid girl. Why can’t you nosy hunters just leave well enough alone?” he asked, aiming his fist for my face. I ducked out of his grip, and his fist met the steel with a sickening crunch. “Ah!” he yelled. “Bitch!” He tried charging me again, but I ducked, swinging the axe into his back. The shifter cried out in pain. I wrenched the blade from his back, expecting him to fall to his knees. He quickly shrugged off his jacket, along with his skin. Suddenly he– well she, was a Leviathan I had run into in rural New York.

She cracked her neck before smiling. “You’re going to regret that,” she said. I took off running, making a sharp left to find Dean.

“Dean! Sam!” I yelled.

“Y/N!” one of them called. I passed an aisle of tanks, and Dean came out from behind one, shooting the shifter. Sam stopped me running.

“Are you alright?” he asked. My chest was heaving, holding onto him for dear life. His question was echoing in my head. Are you alright? All my mind came back with was a resounding no. That’s when everything caught up with me. The anxiety of losing the truck. The sad truth to wanting to get away from my family so bad. Even the waitress, Cindy, was overwhelming. I was emotional. I was angry.

Sam and Dean were looking at me with concern. I smiled at them before picking up my axe that had fallen next to me. I spotted the dead shifter’s body, walking over to it. I raised my axe, chopping off it’s head. I felt the blood splatter onto my cheek. But it didn’t feel like enough. One ceremonious post-mortem decapitation wasn’t enough, at least not for me. I raised the axe again, bringing it down on the shifter’s chest. I kept at it until the body was split in half. I was about to make another blow when someone put their hand on my shoulder. Wielding the axe defensively, I turned around.

“Woah, woah, hey. You alright?” I didn’t answer. All I could hear was a repetition of, “Your family is going to hate you,” “Worthless piece of shit,” “Who’s gonna’ save you when you’re family’s gone,” and finally Dean’s, “Family’s all ya got, y’know?” That’s when I made my decision. I couldn’t come out and tell my family. I couldn’t do that to them. I couldn’t risk that for myself. I just had to… Continue, somehow. I would figure it out.

“I’m fine, Dean. Just, y’know, finishing the job,” I said, smiling again. I licked my lips, tasting blood. I wiped my mouth with my sleeve, passing the ruined corpse. On my way out of the brewery, I kicked the head under a metal tank.  
I was putting my axe back in the truck when I heard the crunching of boots pass behind me. I turned around to see Dean, but no Sam. I glanced at their car, seeing his figure inside. “Hey,” Dean said.

“Hi.” Silence. “So, thanks for helping me on this hunt, and… Uh, sorry about that back there. Happens sometimes, hah,” I laughed awkwardly.

“I get it. This job can get uh… Emotional, I guess. You’ve got a little something, though,” Dean motioned to my entire face. I laughed, reaching into my trunk for a rag. I wiped off my face, eyeing the blood.

“Listen,” Dean said. “I’m not a genius, and I don’t really know you all too well,” he started, “But I can tell there’s something going on up there, and it ain’t about monster killin’.” I looked down at my feet. “Look, whatever it is, I think you should tell them. Whoever they are. And it seems like there’s a prospect it might end bad, but… Sometimes you gotta do what’s best for you, even if it’s gonna hurt the ones you love,” he said. I looked at him, and there he was staring into my soul again. “And if it doesn’t go too hunky dory, give me a call,” he said, handing me a card. It read, Federal Bureau of Investigations, Agent Plant.

“Are you trying to hit on me?” I asked, chuckling.

“Oh no, I don’t think I’m quite your type,” Dean laughed. I nodded, smiling. Dean started walking away, and I shut the trunk. “Oh, and Sam says good luck with that waitress chick!” Dean called from behind him. Then he got into the car, reversed out of the lot, and started down the road. I memorized their licence plate to call in later, just to give ‘em a little thank you present. I laughed at the thought, getting into the driver’s seat and slamming the door shut.

I drove four hours to Charlotte, North Carolina, my home town, to tell my mother and brother in person the next day. It went as expected. By eleven that night I was sitting at a truck stop, staring out the window with tears in my eyes. I knew it was coming, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. I heard a ringing coming from one of the several garbage bags full of my stuff in the back seat. I rummaged around the first bag until I found my phone. It was an unknown number.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Hi,” said a Georgian accent, “Is this Y/N from yesterday?” the voice asked. Cindy.

“Yeah, yeah, it is. Is this Cindy?” I asked.

“Yeah. Well, I just thought I’d call and ask about your truck. I haven’t seen it around town, though, sorry.”

I laughed lightly. “It’s alright. Found it yesterday, actually,” I said.

“Well, that’s good,” Cindy said.

“So how’ve–”

“Do you wanna go out, sometime? Maybe this Sunday. I’m off work,” she asked bluntly.

“Uh, sure. I’m out of the state right now, handling some family things,” I said, clearing my throat, “But I’m free Sunday.”

“Well, great. I’ll see you then, around seven. There’s this nice dinner place in Warner Robins,” Cindy suggested.

“I’d like that,” I said quietly.

“Alright. See you, then.”

“See you then,” I repeated. I hung up, staring at the phone’s light in the darkness for a long moment. Then I added Cindy’s number to my contacts, before patting down my pockets. I found what I was looking for: a small business card.  
The phone rang for a little while before someone finally answered.

“Hello?” It was Dean’s voice.

“Hey, Dean. It’s Y/N. Y’know, the one with the axe?” I asked.

“Oh, hey. So, how’d things go?” he asked, and I cringed. That was the last thing I wanted to think about.

“I was actually calling to ask if I could stay with you for a while,” I said. No answer. “Or, y’know, this was stupid, I can–”

“Kid, it’s fine. I hope you’re fine to drive to Lebanon, Kansas though.”

“As long as I can make it to my date on Sunday, sure,” I said. “I’ll be there soon, Dean. And tell Sam thanks for the good luck.” 

With that I hung up, pulling the car into Drive. It was eighteen hours from here to Lebanon, but it was going to be worth it. I might not have my blood family anymore, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t make a new one. After all, family doesn’t end in blood, does it?


End file.
